Buffy burst through the door to Spike’s apartment, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Having almost sobbed with relief when she spotted the large, black motorcycle outside, she had rushed into the building and up the stairs. Hit by the thick smell of cigarette smoke in the air, she couldn’t help but grimace. Well, at least she had found him.
“Watch your feet.” He didn’t look up when he spoke, keeping his eyes on the cigarette he was smoking. Buffy frowned, then looked down at the floor, her eyes widening at the sight of broken glass and various debris.
She swallowed. “Are you – are you okay?” When he didn’t answer, she bent down to pick up some of the glass pieces, not knowing what else to do. What she really wanted to do was to just run over to him and throw herself in his arms, but something made her hesitate, not sure of how he would react.
“Don’t.” Spike did look up then, an unreadable expression on his face. “It’s my mess – I’ll take care of it.” He dropped the half smoked cigarette into an empty beer can.
Opening her mouth to object, Buffy decided against it and nodded, slowly getting to her feet. She just stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. “Spike, I...”
“Didn’t mean to do it.” He interrupted her, a defensive note in his voice. “If you’re here to yell at me...”
“No!” She was at his side before her mind had even registered that she had moved, taking both his hands in hers. Their eyes met. “No,” she repeated firmly, gently running her thumb over his bruised knuckles as she realized that he had obviously taken his frustration and anger out on the wall as well. “I’m here because I was worried about you. I’m not mad.” She paused. “Wanna tell me what happened? I mean, I think I have most parts figured out, but...”
Spike lowered his eyes, the shame written all over his face. “Didn’t mean to hit her. I just...” He hesitated and she waited patiently for him to continue. “She was touching me!” he finally spat out. “Told her to stop, but...”
“I know.” Buffy cupped his cheek, watching the look of surprise on his face. “Spike, it’s okay, I understand. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Right.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Tell that to your mum.”
Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Look, about my mom...” Suddenly she was afraid of meeting his eyes. “Things got a little intense, and I kinda said something...” Seeing his alarmed expression, she hurried on; “More like indicated, actually, and I’m not sure she even got the concept of it.”
She decided that now was not a good time to tell him that Faith had still been around when she had accidentally let parts of his horrid secret slip out; she was not that stupid. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean...” Her voice trailed off and she gave him a pleading look, silently praying that he wouldn’t hate her.
Spike was quiet for a moment, then nodded in understanding and defeat. “Right. Might as well tell her the rest, then.”
“Are you serious?” She stared at him in disbelief, the fact that he avoided her eyes bothering her more than she was ready to admit. “You said you didn’t want anyone else to find out.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anymore.” Reaching for the crumpled packet on the floor, he pulled out another cigarette. “Just don’t...” As he picked up his Zippo lighter, she noticed that his hands were shaking. “Just don’t make me be there.”
“I’ll deal with my mom, don’t worry about her.” Buffy took the cigarette from him before he could light it, nodding towards the numerous butts on the floor around him. “Your lungs will thank me some day. Look, Spike, I realize you feel guilty about what happened, but that’s no reason why you have to...”
“Guilty?” Spike let out a snort, tossing the packet to the side. “Hate to disappoint you, pet – not that bloody noble. Bitch had it coming.” Buffy didn’t object, nor did she agree, she just kept looking at him and he sighed. “Doesn’t make it right, though,” he mumbled.
“Maybe not.” Buffy squeezed his hand. “Doesn’t make you a bad person, either.” He didn’t answer. “Spike, I’ve seen Faith with guys before; I know exactly how pushy she can be. I’m not stupid. You panicked, didn’t you? That’s why you hit her.” Spike remained silent, and his behavior was starting to freak her out. She had gotten used to his temper by now. But this apathetic side of him was much more disturbing. “Talk to me, dammit!” she finally snapped.
Spike didn’t even blink, showing no sign of being surprised by her outburst. He kept his eyes on their entwined hands, and she found herself wondering if he would have pulled away from her, had she not been holding on to him so tightly. “I’m sorry.” He sounded beyond tired, like he had no energy left. “Didn’t mean to ruin your party.”
“I don’t care about the party.” She had to suppress the urge to scream. “Screw the damn party. I didn’t even want it in the first place. Spike, I’m not blaming you for what happened. I don’t want you to apologize.”
“What do you want, then?” Spike leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling. “Wanna know how I feel right now, s’that it? Feel sick, all right? That bitch touched me, and it still makes me wanna heave. Also feel disgusted with myself for reacting like I did, so there, you have it. Nausea and self loathing. Happy?” He didn’t raise his voice, realizing that he wasn’t even angry anymore. He just felt utterly drained.
“Why the hell would that make me happy?!” Buffy sounded angry, and Spike realized that he had managed to piss her off without even being aware of it. Not that it should really surprise him; it sure wasn’t the first time. To tell the truth, a part of him was more surprised by the fact that she had come here in the first place. He had been fairly certain that – after what happened – Joyce would be most reluctant to the idea of her daughter ditching her birthday party to chase after a woman abuser.
Well, how about that? He was the abuser now. How bloody ironic was that? Realizing that Buffy was still holding his hand – even though she was clearly upset with him – nearly made him weep as the familiar feeling of not being worthy of her affection was starting to sneak up on him. He had actually been naive enough to think that he had moved past that miserable state, but obviously he had been wrong. He was not going to breathe a word about it to Buffy, though. She was already mad at him.
“Didn’t mean it like that.” His voice cracked, much to his horror. The last thing he wanted right now was to break down like a bleeding nancy-boy. “Hell, Buffy, I don’t know what you want me to say. I...” He stopped, rolling his eyes. “Fuck, I need a smoke,” he muttered, patting his pockets.
“It’s gonna be okay.” Buffy’s arms slipped around him, causing him to tense up for a moment. She pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder and he let out a shuddering breath. “We’re okay,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “Nothing else matters.”
Spike wasn’t as confident, but did no attempts of putting his fears into words, having no idea how to even begin to explain. He was not okay, not by a long shot. Was this how things were supposed to be now, for the rest of his life? Him panicking and freaking out whenever someone would come too close? His abuser was long gone, but suddenly he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever be able to feel truly at peace.
He had lashed out at Buffy plenty of times, only with words, though, thankfully never with his fists. Yet. But what if...? No! He was not going in that direction, nothing good would come from thinking like that. There was no reason for him to panic when Buffy was around. She was touching him right now, and he didn’t feel trapped – nor nauseous – in any way.
If anything, it made him feel relieved, like he could finally allow himself to let his guard down and rest. When he was with Buffy, it was like everything just fell into place, everything made sense. It was the rest of the world that was so bloody confusing; he just couldn’t figure it out. And it was exhausting.
Joyce’s reaction and obvious disappointment in him had struck him hard. The mere thought of coming clean to her about his past made him cringe, but suddenly he felt like it was the only option. Suddenly he found himself wishing there was someone he could talk to about all of this, somebody who could give him some kind of advice on how to handle things. Sure, Buffy was wonderful and she would without doubt be understanding, but that was just the thing – she would be too understanding, too eager to make things easier for him.
He appreciated Buffy’s support more than he would ever be able to express in words, and he would always love her for it, of course, but it was not what he needed right now. What he needed, he suddenly realized, was an objective opinion from someone who would have no expectations from him, no right or reason to judge him. And it suddenly hit him just who that person was.
TBC
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks for all your reviews and for sticking with this story. I love to hear your opinions so please keep them coming!
Chapter End Notes:
I'm sure some of you have already figured out the reason why I decided to take the story in this new direction with Faith. Believe me, disturbing as it may be, it serves a purpose for the story. A really big one.